As far as I have memory in my head I have always been a juvenile delinquent. My school years, from 5 – 13, were a history of vandalism, busted noses, twisted arms and broken windows. I spent my days smart-arsing teachers and my nights prising off car badges and defacing bus-stops. I was a tearaway. Still, despite these things I was top boy in class and advanced into the above year. At the age of twelve I won the London Schools Poetry competition*, and less than a year later I was expelled from school and banished for good from the British educational system.

My final day in school was as memorable for my smartness as it was for the bunch of keys that hit me in the temple, knocked me unconscious and split my brow open. Looking back I still think I was unfairly dismissed, but probably it was my just deserves for something else.

It was one of those hot, dusty afternoons where the tarmac burns through the shoes. A bedraggled bunch returned from a lunchtime of football, hopscotch and cigarettes. Our chewed and eaten ties were in our back pockets and our shirts clung miserably to our bodies. All pupils, boys and girls, were three buttons open from the collar. It was in these conditions that our eccentric music teacher Mr Ward Jones decided to test his theory: xylophones are indestructible. To prove this he sat a xylophone in the middle of the music room and challenged each student to break it. “Kick it... punch it... clatter it,” he said, “it cannot be broken.”
One at a time, pupils were called out off the register. Each scruffy body offered up an attempt to break the unbreakable. Kids kicked and tumbled the xylophone. Some clattered and struck the metal keys together. It was rolled, bounced and jumped on, and each time Mr Ward Jones would smugly replace the keys and return to his seat. Watching this procession I couldn’t help thinking that somehow this was designed with me in mind. it was a lesson for all, directed at one. Finally Mr Jones summoned me to the job in hand. I knew what I was going to do, I had it all sussed. I walked confidently up to the xylophone and lifted it up off the floor, high over my head. I turned and faced Mr Jones. he gave a subtle nod and smile which said: “Go ahead, do your worst”’. With that I brought the xylophone crashing down... straight into the piano. For the umpteenth time in my life I was surrounded by carnage, this time playing out to a discordant tune. Yes, the xylophone survived, but the piano wouldn’t be playing Beethoven’s ‘Sonata in C minor’ ever again.

Before the dust from the sackcloth had settled Ward Jones had me. His violence was so thick and so fast that it seemed like he scooped me up and climbed the four stories of stairs to the headmaster's office in one stride. He had the devil in him.

The quiet of the 4th floor was eerie as only empty school corridors can be. The headmaster's office door was closed and locked. Ward Jones crashed me down onto a table, holding me by the shoulders. He stared directly at me and through me. What I saw in that look, in those eyes cannot be described. They were the eyes of a man that was no longer there. His body was acting independently of any brain. I was a tough boy, but that isolation with that man scared the shit outta me. I somehow knew the perverse was once again at my door.

Mr Jones began: “You fucking little...” I gave a smirk. Not a smart one, I just didn’t know what else to do. Well that smirk was the second from last thing I remember. The last was seeing Mr Ward Jones unclip the huge bunch of keys that were hanging from his trousers and hurl them. When I came around the keys were laying on the floor next to me. I could sense a half closed damaged eye and I caught the sour taste of blood as it curled into the corner of my mouth. Jones then had me by the arm and was dragging me off, back down the stairs, me scrambling to find my feet. How I escaped his clutch I am not sure, but on hitting the heat outside I was free, running across the concrete school yard and out the gate. My stepfather, an ex-borstal boxing champ, wouldn’t stand for this. Mr Ward Jones would be history.

My stepfather must have seen me coming, for before I even had time to open the door I caught his thump in the side of my head. That was for bloodying my new cheesecloth school shirt, in addition to fighting and disturbing his afternoon peace. And with that punch, with that reaction, he lost a part of me forever. I also realised he wasn’t as hard hitting as he liked to make out.

For the piano incident I was suspended from school, and 28 days later the Board of Governors convened and permanently excluded me. Mr Ward Jones denied everything and got off scot free (though later he would be fired for making indecent remarks to a 13 year old girl). And that was it (save for two months of 'one on one' tutoring), that was the end of my education. I had been abandoned to run loose with the wolves.

What’s strange is that the moment I was expelled I immediately acquired an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. I passed the next 5 years in public libraries and university canteens. This wasn’t a conscious effort to do something about my situation – I wasn’t that smart, it was just a natural thing. Libraries were full of books and I enjoyed reading. After reading I wanted to discuss and I found I could do that in university canteens. I don’t have a complex about my lack of education, in fact I’m proud of what I’ve managed to learn and study of my own back. Nevertheless, there are still many things I missed out on. The biggest was the lack of second hand information coming my way. When you’re within an educational system you don’t only learn what goes in your head, but also what goes in your fellow students heads and then comes out their mouths. Second and third-hand knowledge is coming at you from all sides. I didn’t have this. For me it was a chore. One book seemed to lead to a thousand others. And so that’s what I did, I followed an endless trail of words, blinking each sentence into my memory. I read some books so quickly I missed them.

The second, and more serious consequence of my expulsion from school, was I had too much freedom. Freedom, youth and the White City Estate are a bad mix; it can only lead to mischief. It soon happened that if I wasn’t in a library I was in the back of a police car. Nothing serious, a multitude of petty crimes. The most ridiculous of which was throwing a grapefruit through a neighbour's window.

But this post isn’t about my schoolday antics, it is more about who I was before heroin and the direction I was already heading in. It’s about the wildness, the dingo that has always been in me. I am a very shy, introverted person, but I have a need to impress. Because of the shyness I never took the eyes with a loud mouth, I took the eyes with my actions. I distinguished myself with danger. I was always the one to push on, to take one step further than anyone else. And this behaviour has a huge rapport with my drug use, because the feeling I got from doing heroin was the same feeling I got from destroying pianos and the same feeling I got from having the neighbours watch me being led away in handcuffs. It was for the eyes, always for the eyes. But where delinquency gets teenage eyes, heroin gets adult ones... just not in the way you'd imagine.

Over the years my youthful problems and needs have all mellowed. I’m not so timid anymore, yet I prefer to avoid strange crowds. My need to take the attention has also tamed, but there is and will always be a streak of that in me. My last fight was at the age of 18, and I no longer vandalize bus-stops or destroy pianos. I do however still throw the occasional grapefruit, but that’s not too bad. I’m getting better every day. Yesterday I was bad, today I am good and tomorrow I may very well be You.

Take care people... keep well & keep heart, Shane.

PS: Here’s my winning poem.

Midnight Revenge

As I walked into the yard
A mummy was a nasty guard
Watching every step I took
Then a spectre popped up to look
Running, running I was scared
“Boo!” a ghost jumped up and blared
And this is what I found
Skeletons were in the ground
Worms and maggots in their hair
Even they started to stare
They jumped on me and took my soul
Threw me in a fresh dug hole
So this is what I done you see
I haunted them instead of me.

53
comments
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Wow. I've been reading ever since you started this blog. I love it!! I had a blog titled 'Welcome to the Dollhouse' but had to delete it. I have a new one up now. I've missed reading you and all of the others! Keep the great (probably bad memories for you) up! We all enjoy reading them!!

No, they're not bad memories... at the time many things weren't nice to go through, but I always look back with fondness and humour to these things (I don't try... it's just like that for me.Sometimes the world is so twisted and ridiculous it becomes funny.

I'm coming over to your blog now... don't delete it before i arrive!! ;)

Wow! What is sure is that your music teacher was not found of Jerry Lee Lewis, haha!

You know, that's very strange, because sometimes when you're in deliquence youth or vandalism, these bad things can make good things happen by coincidence. That's what happened to me when I was 15, but I'll tell you that later.

Great poem by the way! It sure could be adaptated to a Cramps song! :-)

Being suspended from school (but they let me back) Hit a teacher over the head with a metal ruler!

Got smacked over the head with a different teachers bunch of a keys (unfortunately for him there was a class full of witnessess and HE got suspended)

Oh and I once threw an orange through an oncoming car window while I was travelling in the back of my late parents car. That one didn't go down too well as both the cars windows were down and I smacked the oncoming driver over the head with it. The old man gave me a whack for that!

I love your writing. If you wrote a book it would be one I could not put down, I'd stay up late reading. Aside from being a entertained by your posts I am also being educated. I see a lot of my son in you - the quiet one that pushed the limits as far as danger and would do ANYTHING. He got expelled from his entire school district too, but sfor being under the influence of heroin not for breaking a piano.

I am glad you choose to be naked on your blog and share from that place of vulnerability. I used to do that too until it became unsafe. If you ever want a link to my private blog let me know I will send you an invite.

It's becoming a real treat to find a new Heroinhead story in my 'follow' box.

I almost didn't make it through this one! I laughed so hard and loud when the keys came down on the Piano that my eyes wouldn't open and I couldn't read. Of course, the next part silenced that impulse, and made me - as I'm sure it makes all your readers with similar memories - pretty angry.

This stirred so many memories in me, brutha. I would go into it here but maybe the comments section isn't the place for the long-winded story of me. I might break from the norm and write about my memories on my blog and link to this post of yours if that's ok.

I am very happy to see the exploding success of this blog. It makes me happy to see so many people attracted to simple human honesty. As I continue to say over and over, we are a lot more alike, the real population, than television wants us to know. Even a man's simple tale of his own memory reveals truths beyond the scope of his own life. For example, you said recently in a post on crack - that there is no crack in France? I had no idea. And yet it follows an economix model that is clear and points a lot of fingers at who the real 'pushers' are. You do a real service by laying this stuff bare.

Also - you use the word 'bare' a lot when most people would use 'bear' - I might just be a fan who apologizes for you too readily - but I like this 'misuse'. You are more correct this way - you cannot 'bare' these things - in other words, strip them, get them naked, know them, taste them. And if there is anything that Memoirs of a Heroinhead is about, first and foremost, it is about nakedness. And everything that goes along with that.

This is hard-hitting stuff. As potent as a shot of vodka before breakfast. 'Memories of a Heroinhead' dares to tread where other blogs don't.

Wether you have thinly disguised your life by fiction, it does not matter. This form of writing desrves a global audience. Judging by people's comments it is obvious that we would love to see a book of yours on the shelves someday.

i envy your honesty and the level of understanding you have for your situation.

WOW!

i truly find the honesty refreshing and this is actually one of the blogs i look forward to see in my google reader. i only jst started following you and am trying to catch up from the beginning. i honestly love what you are doing, please keep going for as long as you can.

Shane, thanks for stopping by. I would think that in the US, Mr. Ward Jones would have been arrested. Assault on kids isn't tolerated in the school system here. You probably would have received a suspension also. Not sure since I'm not a school teacher or administrator. Interesting life that you've led.

Love your blog, Shane. I really admire your honesty. I venture to say you were too smart and probably bored by school.

I used to refuse to do the assignments and read in the library instead about things that interested me, like: Aleister Crowley, Andy Warhol, Jim Morrison, etc. So I am self-educated to some extent, also.

wow, i think we are kinda kindred spirits.. I never got into that much trouble, but I was always in some sort of trouble.. and still got straight A's and was #1 in my school class!! All the teachers didn't like me cause I was a total smartass, drank and did drugs (they obviosly could not prove it), hung out with the "wrong crowd" yet still got great graded.. I remember one time I was in trouble again and my teacher was lecturing me and said, you know Joe, if you only applied yourself..and I cut him off and said, what I would get A plus plusses and not have any fun?? He was pissed and I got a 3 day vacation!! haha.. keep up the stories and great writing!!

Even though it wasn't a happy story to read that was really well written. I felt like I could see it.

Teachers are believed over children way too often. That can set a tone for how kids think the world will be for them from then on. No matter what they do if something goes wrong it may still be them who gets the blame. He may have been fired later for something else but that doesn't make it right that he was able to stay on after what he'd done already.

Thanks as always for your contribution... yeah, vandalism and delinquency is the norm for many British kids... at least it was when I was growing up.

You got hit with keys as well? Thats a bizarre coincidence... I think we were just in that time where caning had stopped, yet there were still some teachers who hadn't accepted they couldn't discipline physically anymore. I know in my school days, in the main it had stopped... yet certain teachers were still clipping or slapping kids around the head (and not lightly).

Shane Macgowan? What, have you seen my teeth?! ;) Actually, he's one of my favourite song-writers of all time... we're quite similar in the way we celebrate the uglier side of life, and see beauty in it. He's not looking too good now though.

take care Longy & once again thanks for your continued involvement in the blog. Shane.

You've picked up on two interesting points. One is crack aand the other is the word bear/bare.

I mentioned that there is no crack in France for a specific purpose. I didn't go into it in the post but was hoping someone would bring it up backstage. It's bizarre, how is there NO crack in France, yet the UK is absolutely flooded with it?

I'm not exaggerating here, I lived between two London boroughs, and for every square mile I knew between 10-15 crack and heroin dealers. At one time I had 35+ dealers in my phone address. Britain is an island!!! How can france protect multiple borders and britain cannot protect a handful of airports and ports??? Well, i'm not going to put my theory in this comment, but I think you can see wht i'm getting at... I think you was getting at the same thing.

the other point is the word 'bare'. Well spotted. I use that spelling for two reasons, and coincidently it derives from my schooldays. I started spelling 'bear' as 'bare' in relation to 'bare shelves' - which was a reference to our food cupboards at home. In the blog, it has taken on a different meaning - nakedness... unclothed... exposed. Whenever I read the word 'bear' I think of the animal, so it is a more violent way not to 'bear' something. You'll notice if the following action is a violent one I use the correct spelling.

once again, Thank you for all you say about my blog and my writing... It's nice to know it's appreciated.

A+ pluses... I hear you, lol. Sometimes teachers are so far off the mark... I especially hated the ones who pretended to be a little rebellious (swearing and putting on an attitude) as a way to get the bad-boys on side. Don't they realise we see through it immediately? They really underestimate how clever youth is.

What is never reported is how bad teachers mess up children or entire classes of kids. Should a teacher who thinks it is good practic to try and break a xylophone (instead of teaching us how to play it) even be teaching. And this wasn't his first eccentric behaviour... he was known for it. At least I got a good story out of iy, hey? That's something.

I hope you carry on enjoying the blog... I will with yours, & hopefully we will swap many more comments.

"I made up my mind when I started this blog to give everything & I will remain truthful to that."

So you do, and I'm thankful for it.

"It was the same feeling I got from..."

And the same feeling you get from baring yourself through words?

"What I have just said there may not seem like much, but it is a huge thing for me to admit."

It is a huge thing to be part of for it is part of that which transforms the perception of vulnerability (Barbara(aka Layla)) into a sense of unbreakable belonging, and the reason why we love you and your writings.

This has become more than just a blog... and it's about more than just me. It's a very special group of people that have come together here. And everyone who reads, comments, asks questions and opens themselves up, is becoming part of a joint document. The comment feature has become as important as the blog (maybe more important).

I think that with every comment & email, we are all contributing to something that is becoming unique and uplifting. And if people enjoy me & my writing... well, I enjoy your words just as much.

If I ever have a book published you'll get the first printed copy (signed!) ;) I always try to inform, and never write a post just for the sake of it. I always take from the things that can serve as something more than just someone's personal memoir.

I'm glad you can see your son in me... because then you can also see that no matter how hairy things can become there is never a point of hopelessness. The bad can always be transformed into the good.

I'd be very honoured to receive an invite to your private blog... it moves me that you even offer! x

I'm so glad the blog speaks to you and that you enjoy it so much. It has become bigger than I ever imagined & that is due to all the wonderful people that have come together & shared in this virtual space.

Brilliant poem for a middle school boy. Wonderful blog for me to read from the perspective of a mother of one addict (in quasi-recovery) and one 13 year old son who is tetering a dangerous line with the decisions he is making these days. Thanks for yoour honesty!

I'm sorry it took a while to read tour blog. I've been away from mine as well...

oh well...I loved the poem! I don't know why but I kinda resemble/identify to it.

now, about your post: I'm also a book lover. about that "incident", if I was the teacher, I would probably laugh. It wasn't your fault! He said that he want you to try to destroy the xylophone, but he didn't said HOW! U managed to find a solution/alternative that no one had tried xD haha that's all.

It's kinda sad that u destroyed such beautiful instrument, but, fuck, U where doing what the teacher said u to do: destroy the xylophone xD hahaah

Rebellion it's pretty normal in a teenager. it's normal to think that he/she has to be rebellious so people can see what she/he can do. However that rebelliousness has to be controlled, and in your case it wasn't. and that led you to the drugs...

But hey, that was the past, there is nothing you can to now but to quite it and start a new life. And I'm sure you're doing that, in baby-steps you'll get it! Trust in yourself, be strong and take care.

As for Spyware... well, you're blowing bubbles again. There's a displayed Stat-Counter at the bottom of my page. I don't have to dispaly that... many bloggers choose the hidden version. I don't hide things... the only person who does that is you. Also my stats are publicly available, bi=ut you're probably a little too clever to looked at them. lol

Followers, read my following comment and see what else Anonymous has stated:

I, too, had my last fight when I was 18. It's interesting how much of our lives have been interconnected by events and emotions despite the distance. Have I mentioned how glad I am we're back in touch? ;-)

Although, all that said, there is a big fight coming up. Fortunately, for me, this is not one with a friend. But it's gonna be a blow out for sure.

Shane- I enjoy your blog and the way you tell yor stories wholeheartedly. I dont feel like I have the ability to leave a comment that does your blog or my thoughts justice.i thnk it is beautiful that you have/are commited to tell your stories hiding nothing. most people dont have the balls to do what you are doing. i know you have and do effect people's lives everyday. just your honesty, poignancy , not to mention your excellent sense of humor when speaking on dark, morbid topics, sheds a lot of light and perspective on normally dark cornes. few that have lived a life comprable to yours are willing to share it as you are.thank you Shane. I amgrateful to have run into you/your blog. would love to hear from you. regardless, hope you are wellsincerely,Blair

I've always fopund humour in darkness and tragedy, and my own experiences are no different. Many times as I write I am laughing. It seems so ridiculous some of the things that have passed my way that it becomes amusing. ,Even the very serious events I find humour in... I have to. I am not a depressed or sad person and hiopefully the blog reflects that... hopefully the blog can give some hope to the hopeless.

Brilliant! I can imagine the look on your music teach's face, when he realized what you were gona do. Sooo cool. ^_^

"one of those hot, dusty afternoons where the tarmac burns through the shoes" & "eerie as only empty school corridors can be" - don't I know exactly what you mean. One sentence I'm like 100% there. Perfect.

I have to say, though, I like your Mr. Jones. I mean, he's an arsehole, sure, but at least its direct and honest. My teachs always only belittled me with condescending pity and useless advice and this look in their eyes that belied all their good words and told me that I wouldn't ever amount to anything anway. I would have welcomed someone giving me the respect of at least getting really and truly pissed off at me.

Thanks for the blog mate, I have thoroughly enjoyed reading it. I am in New Zealand and there has never been a smack epidemic here but in my time a lot of poor kids got expelled from their youth and into the drudge of survival too. Reading about what you had makes me grateful but also make me think if I could get my hands on a sack of smack then I would proper have at it! I really am impressed with your writing so I'm gonna get back to reading it... Keep up the good work.

thanks for all you say... it still means a lot that people read this stuff and enjoy the words it's written in. It's surely only a good thing smack's not so widely available yout end... you only ever need it once you've had it, and if not you'll find some other means to cope.

You continue reading and mail or leave a comment anytime you like. There's one post called a Mother's Love which I removed for personal reasons but which i'll make visible for the next day or so.

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